WonderlandArkham Asylum
by Jedi Alice
Summary: Alice Liddell is not timid. She doesn't wallow in self-doubt. She is not weak. She's the head-warden of Arkham Asylum. Tough, authoritative, but with a gentle core. Not only does she have the respect of the Dark Knight, but of the Joker, the Mad Hatter, and many other Wonderland-based criminals. She also has them wrapped around her little finger. T. May change to M.


**My attempt at an Alice in the Country of Joker/Batman the Animated series fanfic. Please don't hate. R &R!**

 **Wonderland/Arkham Asylum**

 **Feb 9th, 2016. 8:00 a.m.**

 **Warden Alice Liddell's log**

Being a warden at Arkham Asylum is anything but easy. But it's not all that bad. Not when the crazies save their best behavior for you. As I made my rounds, I noticed that the first one to wake up when I cracked my baton against the wall was Peter White, a villain known as the White Rabbit. What was he in for? The file Batman provided said that he was an extreme germaphobe with an even shorter temper, and would kill simply to "sanitize" the sidewalk. He spoke quite rudely to everyone, but for some reason, he was kind to me. Unlike everyone else, who he viewed as germ-infested, he seemed to view me as clean, and therefore, safe. More than once, he'd tackle-hugged me and begged me to visit his cell more often. More than once, I'd whacked him over the head with my baton. But that never seemed to discourage him. I had a strong feeling that if he were ever to be released from this God-forsaken Hellhole, he'd stalk me, break into my apartment, and sneak into my bed. It was more than a little creepy.

"Alice!" he called in delight, waking the others. "Good morning, Alice!"

"Can it, White Rabbit," I ordered. "I've got no time for your fawning today. The rat has a parole hearing today, so I've got no time for you."

"A-Alice, chu?" said mouse squeaked nervously, peering out from his cell with timid green eyes. "Did you say my hearing was today, chu?"

"Yup! Be good today, and this is the last time you'll have to sleep in a cell," I said, hoping for his sake, he'd get parole.

Pierce wasn't as bad as a lot of the people in here. He didn't enjoy killing, torturing, or burying dead bodies. But he had, even if it had been all for the sake of self-preservation. His boss and superiors had forced the job on him, and he'd been made to commit atrocities for years. It'd screwed up his brain to the point of cowardice and stupidity, and made him think he really was a mouse. There had been only two reasons he hadn't quit and turned himself in. One, he was afraid of what his boss would do to him if he squealed - or squeaked. Two, it was the only thing he knew how to do, and he liked being needed for his skills. But because he'd been forced to do all that stuff against his will, he'd been able to avoid capital punishment. It helped that he was a bit mentally challenged.

"I'll miss talking to you, Warden Alice, chu," he squeaked sadly. "You're the only person who's ever been nice to me, chu. I almost don't wanna leave cause I might never see you again." He sniffled a bit, clearly about to cry.

I moved closer to his cell. "Pierce, trust me. You've paid your debt to societly, and the outside is a heck of a lot better than this place," I said. "Maybe once you've been out for a little while and have a legitimate job that doesn't include dismembering people, we could grab some cheesecake and coffee, yeah?"

"You'd go on a date with me, chu?" he asked, eyes brightening I nodded a bit. As creepy as he could be at times when he'd told me - in great detail - all the crimes he'd been forced to commit, he was also really sweet. "Yay! Alice likes me, chu!"

"Warden's pet," another prisoner muttered. I glared in the direction of the voice. "What was that, Cheshire Cat?"

Boris Airay, AKA, the Cheshire Cat. He had a thing for riddles, and had the mindset of a cat. He was handsome, yeah, but had more ego than sense. That, and he and the Tweedle Twins were always playing "Kill or Die" with the police. It'd been only a matter of time until he'd been caught, shot, and thrown in the cell he now occupied.

"Uh, nothing, nothing, Alice!" he said a little too quickly. Too late. I'd blasted him with ice-water. "MREEOW!" he yowled, startled and soaked and cold. "I said I was sorry!"

"Did anyone hear the cat say he was sorry?" Alice asked the cell block teasingly.

"NO." The other prisoners collectively answered. Alice smiled smugly.

"Sorry," Boris said quietly.

"That's better. Now, the rest of you best behave, or I'll really turn sadist on you!" I warned.

"Empty threats do not befit a woman, young lady," a voice to my left said. Ugh. Blood Dupre, AKA, the Mad Hatter. He's got looks, wealth, power in Gotham's underworld, and his womanizing skills could put Bruce Wayne to shame. It seems the only one immune to his charms is me.

"I could stuff your cell with carrot confections, again, Dupre," I threatened. I was not a girl of empty threats. Blood paled and turned a little blue at the mere mention of carrots. He couldn't stand them. Yet his second in command, Elliot March, AKA the March Hare, perked up immediately at the mention of his favorite vegetable.

"Someone say 'carrot confections?'" he asked excitedly. I have to admit he's cute when he's excited.

"Yeah, the kitchen's serving carrot cake at lunch today," I said, making Blood turn really pale. "Oh, and Blood, we ran out of Flowery Orange Penoke tea. Not at all sorry."

"Why does the world hate me?" he mumbled miserably.

"I don't hate you; you're the coolest!" Elliot said with a smile.

 _ **CRACK!**_

 _"Don't encourage him, March!"_ I ordered, cracking my baton against the bars of his cell. He flinched, but didn't get angry.

I didn't understand it, but everyone here at Arkham seemed to like me a lot. Well, except Joker. Half the time he liked me, the other half, he hated me. Even my fellow wardens (All of whom were male) seemed to be crushing on me. I didn't get it, and I still don't.

By the end of a long day of dealing with Peter's constant off-the-cuff love poems, Boris and the Tweedle Twins bullying Pierce, being harassed by Blood, and giving my serving of carrot cake to Elliot (since I'm not fond of carrot cake), I was ready to beat someone over the head. That someone ended up being Lock-up, a former warden with a terrible sadistic streak. All the other prisoners hated him, and he'd ticked me off too many times to count. So, yeah, I let the idiot know what it felt like to be the one getting treated like dirt.

Pierce was released that afternoon, and I was happy to see him off. He promised to keep me updated on his progress.

That night Peter once again tried to persuade me to visit his cell, which earned him a whack over the head with my baton. I couldn't read his mind, so I had no idea what he was planning, but I wasn't stupid or naïve enough to go into a guy's cell while he's in there.

I was about to clock out when I sensed someone behind me. "Spooky as ever, Batman," I said, knowing who it was without having to look over my shoulder. "What's up?"

"I heard The Dormouse was released today," he said in that grave voice.  
"Yup, he passed his parole hearing," I confirmed. "And I'm keeping tabs on him, as well. I want to believe he can turn his life around, but if he doesn't, well, I'll keep his cell reserved for him."

"Optimism and realism don't really mix, Alice," he said. "So how was work?"

"Sameold, same old," I said. "Peter swooping over me, Blood harassing me, Joker being a cryptic jerk, Elliot seems to have a crush on me, and Boris and the Twins bullied Pierce until it was time for his hearing. Oh, and that nut-job, Lock-Up, earned himself a beating again. Relax, I didn't go over the line."

"You never do," the Dark Knight said calmly. "That's why I vouched for you. Keep up the good work. I'll check in again in a few days, but you know how to reach me before then if you need to."

"Yeah. I do," I said, not meeting his reflective eyes. "But don't worry. I'm not some weak damsel in distress. I wouldn't have applied for this job if I couldn't hold my own against the crazies. Just take care of yourself, Bats. Gotham needs _all_ its heroes and qualified vigilantes. You're one of Gotham's best. We'd have a hard time scraping the psychos off the streets without you." I paused then added. "I better not be preaching to air."

I turned around, and sure enough, Batman was long gone. "Yup. Preaching to air."


End file.
